Thorin's Queen
by kkolmakov
Summary: Now that Erebor has been reclaimed, who will take a place near Thorin Oakenshield on the throne of Durin? Surely, not a random fling from seven years ago... *No Infringement Intended* U2. Not related to other of my stories, except "Another Night, Another Path." Timeline #2. Story #1.
1. Chapter 1

_Written by __kkolmakov_

_7 years ago..._

Thorin's feet slid in the mud, his weight supported by Fili's shoulder and his sword, the Deathless, he jabbed into the ground. "Uncle, we need to move, there might be more of them..." Thorin snarled through his teeth. He knew they needed to get off the road, but the thick trickle of his blood was quickly filling his boot, and the burning wound on the side deep and open. He pressed his elbow in it. It slashed his shoulder with a new wave of livid pain. The arrow head was still stuck deep into the muscles.

By the time they reached the infirmary in Bree, the loss of blood blurred his vision, strange colourful shapes floating in his eyes. Fili pushed the door with his other shoulder and dragged him in. Thorin felt his body sagging, and he clenched his teeth. He knew Fili was wounded too, but surely the boy could have been more careful!

"Put him on the table!" A young clear voice rang, and he felt a couple of little hands on himself. They were strong, deft, and unpleasantly cold when they slid on his pulse on the neck. He winced and felt his clothes being dragged off him, brigandine jerked over his head, and he hissed. "How long have you been walking?" "About two hours," Fili sounded exhausted, "There is a sword wound on the side, and..." "I will see everything myself, I just need the timeline. Go with Todd, he will see to your shoulder." "I will not leave my uncle..." "It is my infirmary, and you will do as I say. Go!" The voice was self-assured, and Thorin involuntarily smirked.

"Master Dwarf, do you hear me?" A pair of strange green eyes peered in his. He tried to focus. He realized the healer was a young maiden and cursed his luck. It would be so very foolish to die in the hands of an inexperienced girl in a rotten town of Men!

He heard the sound of his tunic being cut and cold hands lay on his abdomen. He ground his teeth and tried to focus on her. "Your name, Master Dwarf." "Boin, son of Gloin," he felt there was no need flailing his titles around when there was price on his head. "Well, Boin, son of Gloin, that will hurt." And it did. He growled through clenched teeth and felt as if she poked his slashed side with red hot iron bar. Something metal clanged, and he understood she pulled out a piece of the blade stuck in him. He remembered the attacker's sword breaking off the tip over his armour.

The tangy strange smell of some balm filled his nose. Then cold palm pressed into the wound, and it actually felt even tolerable. He took an easier breath and finally managed to look at her. Young, freckled nose, strange slanted eyes, and the brightest orange hair he has ever seen. Small curls around her head escaping a modest do with a braid going around her head. He hoped she was over twelve, because she surely did not look like it.

She was busy with his wound, movements confident, even white teeth worrying a plump bottom lip. And then he felt a needle going through his flesh. "I need to close the wound, the sides are too jagged." She was not talking to him obviously, but the certain, clear tone helped. He breathed through the pain.

She finished with his side, and then her hands ran over his body. He could not believe she needed guidance to locate a giant bleeding hole in his shoulder! "The shoulder..." She shushed him and continued feeling his muscles. He gnashed his teeth. The unassuming lass just shushed him! She finished her examination, and he felt the same spicy smell again. This time he knew the touch of the cold palm was coming, and he welcomed it. And then the burning pain again.

"Maiar, your tissues are so much denser than that of a Man," she jammed her surgery tool deeper into his shoulder, and white spots danced in front of his eyes. Through the haze he felt surprised at her tone. She sounded angry, as if it was his fault she could not pull the arrow head stuck in his shoulder. He turned his head and looked at her face.

Pale skin, translucent, radiant, orange freckles, frowned brows, she bit into her lower lip and pulled with a surprising strength. The arrow head clanged on the table, and she reached for another balm. "Well, Master Boin, another small prick," a curved needle appeared in her hand.

**XXX**

A week passed, and he could finally get up. He staggered into the baths and finally started to wash. He felt as if he would never feel clean again, hair entangled and dirty, his whole body covered in grime. He was soaking in the hot water, when the door flew open. Wren, as such was the name of the healer, rushed in and then swirled on her heels, having realized he was in a tub. "What are you doing, Master Dwarf?" She stood with her back to him, her voice enraged and disdainful. "What does it look like, honourable healer?"

"You cannot stay there for so long! You were allowed to wash quickly, not soak your stitches in boiling water. I came in to make sure you are not sprawled on a floor having lost consciousness. Get out of there immediately!" He did not even know what to say. Not only she did not know her place, such insolence in a simple girl of Men, but she also was not leaving. "Are you aware you are in a bath chamber, honourable healer? With a naked man?" His voice mocking, he pointedly made splashing noises.

Her shoulder grew tense. "I do not care what is between your legs, Master Dwarf, you are in my care. And you need to come out." Besides unexpected pleasure of teasing the contemptuous bird, he simply enjoyed the heat and the comfort of the bath. The muscles felt relaxed, skin clean and fresh, his head blissfully empty. He chuckled and considered splashing some water at her straight back. Or possibly the delightful small bum. Then he realized what he was thinking and halted.

And then she exhaled and slowly turned. Her green eyes burning, strange narrow face furious, she pointedly gave him a look over, as if saying, _"Here, I am looking at you naked_ _in a tub. So what?"_ and strode towards him. "Get up and get out of the cursed tub! Right now!"

He felt strange lightness in his head. He spread his arms on the edges of the bath. "Or what?" She looked good when she was angry. Feverish blush on the cheekbones, tiny hands fisted, jaw tense, she looked less of a skinny bird and more of a tongue of flame. And then he shook his head. What sort of rubbish was that thought?

"Or you will bleed out in this bath." She pointed at the water, blood speedily colouring it. He looked down and pushed up from the edges of the tub. His head swam, and he swayed. She darted forward and pushed her shoulder towards him for support. He hesitated, and she made a scornful noise. "Don't be an imbecile, you will not get out on your own."

She helped him to step out and pushed him on the nearest bench. And then she knelt in front of him, and her nimble little fingers started inspecting the wound. He heard her grumbling under her breath, and he thought he heard "cantankerous" and "puffed up". He looked down at her and then realized their positions.

He stared on the crown of her flaming head. The back of her neck was gentle and delicate, and he could see the contours of her shoulder blades under the healer's robe. She lifted her eyes at him, and he felt like a child that is about to be scolded. He felt faint and strangely giddy. And then he dove in and pressed his lips to hers. She squeaked and pushed away from him.

He chuckled and gave her a look over. She sat on the floor, on her delectable backside, he thought it was time to admit he really liked the round little buttocks, her eyes wide open and pupils almost hiding the green irises. Or were they brown? Something in the middle, he thought, and smirked.

And then she lifted a brow and asked sarcastically, "How much time exactly did you spend in that tub, Master Dwarf? How delirious one has to get from blood loss to make his advances to me," the last phrase she obviously addressed to herself, after which she got up and smoothed her robe. "Let us return you to the bed, the orderly already changed your sheets." She came up to him and stretched her hand to him. "And I brought your fresh clothes, your nephew bought them."

**XXX**

Almost two months passed, and Thorin decided that this madness had to stop. The realization came when he caught himself standing in the yard of the infirmary in a foolish hope to catch a glimpse of her running by on some errands. His wounds were partially healed, and had he not been exaggerating his pain for the last two weeks, he and Fili would have been on the road.

He stayed, he complained and said he could not sleep, he refused to take draughts, and faked more pain. She inspected the wound again and again, the pulps of her fingers sliding on his skin, and she would frown. He was staring at her long elegant neck. "I do not understand, I was certain it should be healed by now. Are you sure it is not something else? How do you eat? A stomach pain perhaps?" He schooled his face into a peevish expression. "Which one of us two is a healer, lady Wren?"

She sighed, "How many time have I asked you, master Boin, not to call me that. Honourable healer would suffice." She touched his abdomen again, and he clenched his teeth to suppress a shiver. She looked embarrassed. "I honestly do not understand..." He saw pulse beating on her neck and imagined pressing his lips to that spot. And then he berated himself for stupidity. And then imagined her neck and the narrow back with graceful shoulder blades arch while her head was dropped back in rapture.

He stood in the yard for half an hour when finally she rushed by, swift on her tiny feet, the unruly curls bobbing with each step, her head set regally and gracefully. She was chatting with another healer, and passing by she gave him a small bow. Her astonishing eyes were laughing, and he decided he was an imbecile indeed.

The last drop was the day when he realized that he was gazing on her ankles when sitting on a window sill of the sun room she was dangling her legs and chewing an apple. Was he completely out of his mind? The next thing would be writing poetry and carving her name on a tree. He mentally gave himself a smack at the back of the head. Her white teeth sank into the flesh of the fruit, and his mouth went dry. He imagined those red lips on some parts of his own anatomy, and the said parts rejoiced. That had to end, and quickly.

**XXX**

He learnt her schedule by then, and knew she was going to be in the kitchen late at night, washing vials and dosing draughts. He just needed to extinguish this strange hunger for her body and be done with it. He would have his fill, might have to go a few rounds, and leave. She was very different from the women he usually went for, too skinny, too strange. He could not understand this. What was there to entice him? She did not try to be attractive, unlike other female healers, she did not decorate her robe, hair in a simple braid, turned up nose, no curves. He even thought that perhaps once he could lay his hands on her, the hunger would go away on its own. She was all angles and bones, and that would be bones of a small bird, note the name.

If she was willing, he would just need to make sure there was no child. If she was a maiden, he could try seduction. He was not good at it, but surely a simple healer from Bree was not the most sophisticated of women. Or he would offer her money. Perhaps he could mention his title and status. If she was unwilling, that would be even better. He would leave and get to the nearest brothel. Surely they had redheads there.

**XXX**

With a clear plan in his mind he entered the kitchen and stared at her ankles. She was putting some boxes on a tall shelf, tiptoeing on the top of a ladder. She pushed the box in and climbed down. She smoothed her hair and then noticed him.

"Master Boin, are you alright? Is it the pain?" Her face was concerned, and he could not find a single word. She stepped closer and touched his shoulder. "Master Boin?.." He could see the delicate wings of her nose, long black lashes and the tender concern in her eyes, and something snapped.

His head suddenly filled with some strange roaring fire, his ears ringing, and he grabbed her, pressed her into him, caught her mouth, greedy, hungry, pained. She whimpered and her narrow palms pressed into his chest. He did not notice. All he could feel is the smell of her skin, her hair, her delicate body under his roaming hands, her smooth skin. One of his hands grabbed the back of her dress, the second covered her breast, and his lips slipped on her jaw.

The feeling of the pulse beating on her neck suddenly returned him to reality. That and her hands gently stroking his hair and shoulders. He realized he was shaking and that she was making some small comforting noises. The absurdity of her behaviour made him halt and look at her, that was not how a potential victim of assault was to behave. His hands still clutching her dress, she cupped his face and looked into his eyes. "What is it, Master Boin? What troubles you?" And he just could not do that anymore.

"That is not my name," his voice was gruff, he took a shuddering breath in. "It is Thorin, Thorin Oakenshield." Her eyes grew wider. Her hands continued stroking his cheeks though, and she gave him a small encouraging smile. "That is a beautiful name, Master Dwarf. It is sad it comes with so much responsibility."

Her hands on his beard, she made him look into her eyes. She ran her hands through his hair and chuckled, "No wonder you are such a grouch all the time!" He hiked up his brows at her. Inconceivable woman! She smiled wider. And then suddenly he was just blurting everything out, what he felt, what the look at her body did to him, how they could never be together, how he wanted her, take her, possess her, right there, press her body into the kitchen wall, just to cope with the hunger, and pain, and the longing…

Through his absurd feverish mumbling, she was soothing him, rubbing his shoulders, and he realized she was quietly laughing and crying at the same time. "I thought I was alone in these feeling, my lord…" And he could not hold it back anymore, he jumped at her again, pushed her on the table, spread her under him, his hand rudely shoved up her skirts.

Her giant amber eyes, neither green nor brown, pupils dilated, were staring at him. And he froze. "Are you a maiden, honourable healer?" He could not believe he was even talking, his jaws clenched so hard that his words sounded like a snarl. He realized he was probably hurting her, his hands grasped on her slender shoulders, his knee pressed between her legs. Rosy blush was burning on her cheekbones, but he realized she was not fighting him. Her right hand was clenched in a small delicate fist on the table near her hip, while the left one was pressed into his chest. He took a shuddering breath in. She was not pushing him away though. The little fingers twitched, and he felt it through the tunic.

"No," she licked her lips, he felt his whole body jolt, "And yes, of sorts... There was one man, long time ago…" She swallowed, and the fragile throat moved. It took all the willpower left in him not to bite into the pale skin there. She still was not moving, spread under him. Suddenly she smiled. Her hands cupped his face, little strong fingers scratching his beard. His breathing hitched.

He realized he could not do it. Not with her, not on the table, hastily and roughly. Not this way, as if an animal, as if forcing her, as if conquering her body. He wanted this caress, this warmth in her eyes, her soft red lips to smile, to say his name, to speak of love. He recoiled, his own thoughts terrifying him.

He moved away and slid off the table. He stepped back to the wall, his heart beating painfully, his member still tense in his breeches. He saw confusion on her face, she sat up and the tiny feet dangled off the edge of the table. He closed his eyes. He wanted to kneel in front of her and kiss the delicate calves and knees, a memory of little pink toes flashing in his mind. It was a rainy day, and she was jumping over the puddles, her shoes in her hand...

"I apologize, honourable healer… It was outrageous behaviour… I..." He had no words, he felt dizzy and berated himself for feeling like a brainless village girl in love. She was staring at him attentively, eyes wide open, lips pressed together. Then she nodded and smiled sadly, "Thank you, my lord, for your mindfulness, I would not have been able to stop." He jerked his head up. That was the first time in his life he was ever praised for being conscious and reasonable, and he gave out an incredulous chuckle.

She was sitting and staring at her knees, her skirt still bunched up around her hips. He stepped forward and gently pulled at the hem. It fell down and covered her knees. He felt his body lament the disappearance of smooth pale skin of her thighs, but he already made his decision. She lifted her eyes at him. They were tender and sad. He cupped her face and pressed his lips to hers.

That was their first genuine kiss, and his head swam. Her lips warm and willing, obviously inexperienced but eager, the smell of those white flowers by the road from her skin and hair, her small hands sliding around his ribs, and then a small moan she emitted made his heart clench. He realized with aching clarity that Mahal was so endlessly cruel to him. She was the One. His first kiss of love broke the barriers he had built around his soul all through the years, the roaring fire flooding his body and mind, crushing his spirit and breaking his heart. She signed into his lips, unaware of the excruciating pain he felt in every muscles of his body, and her knees spread, one leg snaking around his. He pushed her away and stepped back.

"I cannot have you to myself," his breathing was laboured, and he fisted his hands. "Not now, not ever. I am a Dwarf and a King." Her brows flew up. For an instant he thought that she was going to offer him at least one night. And he hastily pondered whether he should agree. To have her for at least one night… And then he internally winced from the thought, surely she should feel how wrong that would be. It was not about coupling like beasts, to satisfy physical hunger, a pain of suspicion gripped his heart. Was he wrong to assume she was the pure and noble maiden he thought she was? "I will leave immediately."

"I will never love another," her voice was so quiet that for a second he thought he misheard. She lifted her eyes, serious and sad, and the long black lashes fluttered. "Forgive me, my lord," she shook her head, "Now I am behaving outrageously," she chuckled mirthlessly, "But I wanted you to know. More for myself than for your sake, I suppose..." Her eyes shifted on the floor again. He stepped forwards and wrapped his arms around her, pressed her small body into his, feeling her heart beating through the two thin tunics. She fit into him perfectly, and he felt like screaming, and raging, and breaking everything around him. He reigned his rage and spoke softly, reveling in her warmth for the last time, "Neither will I, honourable healer. And Dwarves never break promises such as this one."

Him and Fili set on the road the next day before dawn. He did not get to see her in the morning. He only regretted he did not ask for any token. But then he berated himself for stupid sentimentality. Not that he would be able to forget her without one.

**A/N: Alrighty, my lovelies! This is officially the prequel to the sequel I am collaborating with RagdollPrincess on for her story "What The Future Brings." Remember, it is Thorin 2.0 and Wren 2.0, not the ones from my other stories, except "Another Night, Another Path." That is Universe 2.0. from now on officially marked in the descriptions of the stories as U2 :) **

**The story will consist of chapters written by me and RagdollPrincess's chapters. There will be smut, fluff and pretty much no angst for my babies, but Kili is a wreck... :( If you want to know more, check out her story! **


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: Alrighty, ****my lovelies****, the game is on! The glorious ****RagdollPrincess**** and your humble servant had an inspiration spree and more chapters are to come pretty quickly. Remember, it is Thorin2 and Wren2 from _Another Night, Another Path_, and that is the beginning of their journey. **

**Seven years passed and...**

_Written by __RagdollPrincess_

Kili stood by the river filling his water skin. Balin and Thorin were sitting by the fire smoking pipes, getting ready to travel for the day. Today was the day they would arrive in Bree.

Kili walked back towards the campfire and perched on a rock. He felt agitated and was anxious to be on the move. Thorin seemed unwilling to go, surprising considering this was the day he would be finding his long lost love. Kili glanced at him out of the corner of his eye, feeling slightly irritated with his uncle, mostly without warrant but instead due to Kili's own irritable mood that hung over him like a cloud.

Kili noticed Balin fidget briefly as he glanced at the king as well, clearly waiting for Thorin to declare it was time to depart. Thorin seemed lost in his own thoughts, though, an anxious wrinkle formed between his brows.

After another moment, Balin cleared his throat. "Thorin," he began, "perhaps you could tell us a wee bit about our future queen." This comment seemed to draw Thorin out of his reverie, although he only stared blankly at Balin as though he didn't comprehend the question. After a brief pause Balin continued. "I only mean that it might be nice to have some warning as what to expect," he encouraged.

Thorin's eyes dropped to his hands, which Kili noticed were uncharacteristically worrying a twig he had picked up somewhere. At first Kili thought Thorin wasn't going to speak, and was surprised when Thorin looked up at them.

Suddenly Thorin spoke in a quiet anxious voice, sounding lost like a small child. "What if I am wrong? Even if she is unattached, will she be willing to lock herself up in the stone walls, without sunlight and her herbs, and give up her life and live according to the Dwarven traditions? It is not an easy life for a Queen..." Balin looked at his friend for a moment before placing his hand on his shoulder and squeezing it sympathetically.

Kili rolled his eyes, muttering, "Most likely she will run away from you in the middle of the night without such as a note!" Balin sighed as he stared at Kili, shaking his head in disappointment. Kili closed his eyes and gritted his teeth.

Balin closed his own eyes briefly as though asking Mahal for patience before shaking his head at Kili across the fire, silently urging him to speak no more. He turned to Thorin and prompted him again. "You were saying, Thorin?"

Thorin hadn't seemed to notice the exchange between Kili and Balin and had lapsed back into silence, staring off into the distance. He suddenly shifted his eyes to Balin.

"She is like no one I've ever met before. She's intelligent, and she seems cool and distant on the surface, but when you look in her eyes, which are the most unusual colour I've ever seen, you see that there is gentleness there. She's very small for a human, but she has remarkably strong hands."

Thorin chuckled at some memory he didn't share with them. "She bossed around all of these men in the infirmary as though she owned the place, this scrap of a girl. She can be quite bossy, actually, and you don't want to make her angry. You'll regret it if you do. It's better to just do what she says because you'll end up doing so in the end anyway." Thorin chuckled, his face beginning to relax.

Kili felt red hot rage boil up inside of himself. He was furious. He was furious with Thorin for making him come on this journey to find a woman the fool hadn't seen in over seven years, but he was mostly furious that Thorin was in love and was so hopeful and excited about seeing this woman, despite the anxiety that seemed to take him from time to time. Kili was angry and wanted to spite anyone who dared to be happy in love when his own love had abandoned him. He couldn't stop his rage from boiling over as he heard Thorin's words.

"You're a fool," he spat at his uncle. Both of the older dwarves looked at Kili in astonishment. "You're a fool to think she's still there, waiting for you. She probably moved onto the next available man as soon as you left, mocking you for being unable to get the deed done. She probably fucked some other man the moment you were out the door, laughing at the dwarf who declared his love for her when she didn't even know your name. By now she's probably working as a whore in some brothel, mother to half a dozen children she's sent off to other families because a woman so willing to bed someone she barely knows is clearly unfit to be a mother or wife to anyone, let alone a queen."

Kili found himself pressed up against a tree, Thorin's hand painfully tight around his neck. Kili didn't struggle but stared at Thorin shock. Thorin had never raised a hand to him in his life, however much he may have deserved it at times. It was rare for Thorin to lose control, and Kili had only seen it a few times. Whenever Thorin did threaten violence, it was always when someone he loved was threatened, and once towards Bilbo when he'd found out that the hobbit had given the Arkenstone to Bard.

For a moment, the urge to continue to snarl insults at his uncle overtook Kili. A self-destructive part of himself that seemed to grow stronger each day, along with the pressure slowly building in his head, was deeply tempted to see how much Thorin could take before he snapped on Kili and caused him bodily harm.

Kili would have welcomed the physical pain such an altercation would have brought, a break from the emotional agony that consumed him and an opportunity to work off his constant state of agitation. But even through the fog of his own misery Kili was able to see in Thorin's eyes that some of the words Kili had said were fears that Thorin had been grappling with himself.

They stood locked together for a moment before Thorin hissed, "Don't spread your hatred and venom just because your own heart has been broken." Kili had remained silent until Thorin released him.

"Forgive me, uncle," Kili said in a low voice. Thorin eyed him coldly before nodding curtly and turning to prepare to mount his pony.

When they arrived at Bree later that day, they proceeded directly to the infirmary. Thorin stopped outside of the door, his hand frozen in midair as he had been reaching to pull the handle of the door. He seemed paralyzed. Kili glanced at Balin, but the older dwarf seemed to have schooled his features into an expression of detached calm.

Kili glanced at his uncle again and followed Balin's lead, remaining silent as he shifted slightly on his feet, waiting for his uncle to move. He saw the muscles in Thorin's jaw tense as Thorin clenched his hand tightly in a fist for a moment before releasing it and grasping the door handle, wrenching the door open and moving through it as quickly as his injured leg allowed.

Kili and Balin followed him into the infirmary, keeping a distance as Thorin turned towards a long open well lit room. Thorin moved through the doorway to the room and stopped just over the threshold. Kili followed Thorin's gaze, which seemed to be fixed on a small figure at the end of the room.

Kili glanced around the room finding it empty of all healers except for the small figure. He realized Thorin must have had another lapse of anxiety brought on by not finding the woman he sought in this room. Wishing to be helpful, Kili took breath to encourage Thorin to ask the small person he was staring at if she possibly knew where he could find the woman they sought, when the sun from a nearby window caught the figure, illuminating her copper hair that was wrapped tightly around her head in a braid, small stubborn curls escaping and clinging to her thin neck.

Kili froze in shock as he remembered Fili's words. "Not the skinny redhead?" Fili had asked before Thorin had snapped at him.

Kili realized he was indeed looking at a person of that exact description. The figure was quite small, easily described as skinny, and her hair was as orange as the setting sun. Kili watched as she helped a patient, her movements determined and purposeful, as she instructed the patient in a bossy tone to drink his tonic. She was wearing a horribly unattractive green tunic the colour of swamp water over which was tied an apron covered in something disgusting, which Kili was sure he didn't want to know the origin of.

Kili stared at her in astonishment. This could not be the person they were here to see. It wasn't possible that this slip of a girl was the person Thorin had fallen in love with. She seemed so odd, so frail. In the name of Mahal, she looked as though she'd break upon being touched, let alone being bedded by a dwarf.

The woman turned away from the patient, apparently not having seen them yet, and quickly removed the disgusting apron and disposed of it in a nearby basket clearly intended for this purpose. Picking up a crate of vials, she turned towards the doorway and raised her head to glance down the row of beds, freezing as she finally caught sight of them, her eyes suddenly locked on Thorin's face.

Kili stood, waiting for someone to move or speak, and felt himself grow impatient as the silence stretched. He exhaled in relief as the woman cleared her throat but felt frustrated as she only carefully set the vials down again, her thin shoulders rising as she appeared to take a deep breath. He noticed a slight tremor to her hands as she then smoothed her dress. She raised her head again, holding her chin at a proud angle and squaring her shoulders as though attempting to compose herself, her expression unreadable.

Then suddenly she began to move quickly towards them, at first walking and then beginning to run, her red mouth stretched wide in a grin. Thorin began to move towards her, slowly as he limped, before her body crashed into his, a loud thump resounding in the long room.

The woman began to laugh as she threw her arms around Thorin's neck, and Kili watched Thorin wrap his arms tightly around her waist and lift her small feet off the ground as he held her to him, his own deep laugh rising from his chest as he buried his face in her neck. "You came back!" she exclaimed. "After all these years, you came back!"

Thorin only appeared to hold her more tightly, and after a moment she pulled away from him, gasping for breath. If Kili had thought he couldn't be any more astonished, he was proven wrong when Thorin brought his hands to the woman's face, cupping her delicate jaw in his large palms and looking deeply into her eyes in earnest. "Honourable healer," he said. "I have come to take you to Erebor."

She laughed, her slanted eyes crinkling with mirth. "Well, my lord, I have to change. I can't go in healers' robes." It was as though they were continuing a conversation they'd had only that morning over tea rather than reuniting for the first time in almost a decade. Her voice was strong and confident with a sarcastic lilt to it that made Kili raise his eyebrows, if he could possibly raise them any further.

Thorin laughed with her as she brought her hands to his cheeks, stroking them affectionately. As though she was unable to stop herself, her nails dug under the whiskers there as she began to scratch as his beard. A deep rumbling noise escaped Thorin's chest, his face breaking with a wide cat like grin, and Kili wrinkled his brow, feeling almost embarrassed for his uncle at the undignified behaviour.

The healer pressed her body into his as though she was moving into to kiss him when she suddenly pulled away. Thorin's brows drew together in concern at the sudden distance, reaching for her as she cleared her throat and nodded pointedly towards Balin.

Thorin glanced around in confusion, clearly having forgotten the presence of his companions. For a moment, he glared at Kili as though Kili had intentionally interrupted his reunion with healer. Kili couldn't help but glare back at his uncle in irritation, wishing to remind his uncle that he had not volunteered to come along on this journey. He bit his tongue, however, as his uncle spoke.

"May I present to you, Wren, your future queen." Wren's eyes widened at his words, and Kili wondered why she suddenly looked at Thorin in shock, her head snapping to Thorin so quickly that the copper curls that had escaped the tight braid bounced against her neck. Kili bit back a laugh as he wondered if maybe his uncle had gotten her name wrong. It had been seven years after all.

"Queen?" she asked in surprise.

"But of course," Thorin dismissed. "You are going to marry me." She stared at him momentarily in shocked silence before composing herself.

Balin moved first, clearly unable to contain his delight. Kili wondered what Balin had to be so happy about, but Balin seemed completely taken with the woman before them. "Balin, at your service," he said, grinning as he bowed deeply, his arms spread wide in welcome. The healer smiled at him graciously, and Kili didn't fail to note the slight bow of her head as though she was queen already.

Gritting his teeth, Kili stepped forward after Balin retreated. "And Kili, at your service," he said, unable to keep the cold tone out of his voice. The woman's smile faltered slightly as her gaze settled upon him. Kili held her gaze briefly before looking away, angry as he felt her strange eyes bore into his. He saw something he didn't like in her eyes as she gazed at him, as though she could read his thoughts and see into his heart. Even though he had only just met her, he felt an intense dislike towards her immediately upon the introduction.

The moment was broken as Thorin reached for her, his patience stretched to the limit, while she laughed as he began to steer her towards a nearby door leading to a small closet. Thorin wrenched the door open as he spoke to them. "Go to the inn. I'll join you there later." He backed the healer into the closet, slamming the door shut behind them.

Kili and Balin stood staring at the door and then each other in astonishment before Balin smiled at Kili, gesturing for him to follow Balin out of the room. "Come, Kili, let us find some food," he said. "You've done naught but drink ale since we departed Erebor, and I'm sure to see you eat a proper meal before the day is out."

**A/N: The next chapter is just about ready to go and should be up in a couple days. And don't forget, if you want to know what's wrong with Kili, read _What The Future Brings_ by RagdollPrincess.**


	3. Chapter 3

_Written by kkolmakov_

Thorin pushed her into the closet and forcefully pulled the door closed behind him. There was enough room in it, and she stepped back, away from him. He let her, suddenly worried that she was overwhelmed. But her face was calm, elated, the slanted eyes he remembered so well were bright and smiling. She was surveying his face, then her stare slid on his shoulders and roamed all his body.

"Honourable healer..." His voice sounded suddenly uncertain even to him.

"Wren," she met his eyes again and smiled, "You should call me Wren." He smiled back, but then immediately frowned. He suddenly felt hurried, he needed her to understand, to know his thoughts and his feelings.

"I wish to marry you and make you my Queen. The Queen... Erebor is ours again..." He felt panicked. He realised he was mumbling. That was not how one proposed marriage. She had known him for two moons seven years ago, his mind was railing. He needed to be eloquent, convince her, charm her. He almost glared at her face trying to perceive her mind. One fevered thought was thrashing in his mind. What if she was married to some lousy baker or a cobbler? Damn Kili for planting this idea in his head. Not that he had not thought of it again and again himself. What if there were children? He felt even more of an imbecile catching himself staring at her stomach. What was he trying to see there?

She had run to him. She had almost kissed him. He immediately remembered her small strong hands pressed to his cheeks, and to his own surprise he felt his head swim. Surely she sensed it too. Certainty. The undoubtable definiteness. She belonged to him. And he to her. For the first time he felt no fear at a thought of something constricting him. It was an ultimate set of restraints, to love and to be loved, but he welcomed it.

He stared at her waiting for an answer. She seemed preoccupied with studying his attire. Her brows were hiked, her expression cheerful and curious.

"Honourable... Wren..." She tore her eyes from his buckle and looked at him. "Will you be my wife?" He was shocked by the ease with which the words slipped off his lips.

She grinned widely and stepped closer. "Of course I will," her tone was almost comforting. This is how one talks to a fretting child. She stretched her hand and tentatively touched the fur collar of his coat with the tips of her fingers.

Suddenly he laughed loudly. He felt vulnerable, helpless in front of her, hers to do whatever she felt like, break him, destroy and crush him at her whim, and she seemed shy even to touch him. And then he laughed again. Why was he not scared? He was defenceless in the hands of a small woman he knew so little about. Why would he feel exuberant and safe?

She smiled again joining his elation. He realized she was still standing too far, and he wrapped his arms around her waist decisively. She gasped, and the eyes flew wide. Her hands lay on his shoulders. He froze, he needed her to reciprocate. She had touched his face there, outside the closet, in front of everyone. Her cool strong fingers had cupped his face, and he did not know how to ask her to do it again. He exhaled and looked at the face that was finally so close to his.

Somehow the freckled nose caught his attention, and now he could not stop staring. The bright orange freckles peppering her pale skin were the most astonishing picture he had ever seen in his life.

And then she blushed. Right in front of his eyes soft pink flooded her porcelain skin, the cheekbones obviously burning up, and he saw the fluffy lashes flutter. She was so beautiful for him at that moment that he felt embarrassed. He was not forty, he was experienced, he knew women, he knew... What did he know? His head felt empty, he was suddenly hot under his collar, and his own hands on her tiny waist seemed heavy and clumsy.

And then her eyes grew suddenly impish. "Are you doubting your choice already, my lord?"

"What?! No," his voice broke, and he felt peevish. Just to prove her and even more so himself that he was no awkward youngling he pulled her to himself tighter, one of his hand sliding on her shoulder blades.

It made it worse. They were delicate, her back under the rough fabric warm and narrow, and the tips of his fingers brushed her soft skin above the collar of her robe. He gulped.

Suddenly she pushed her nose into his neck and sighed a long deep exhale. "You are here," her voice was soft, and her hands slid under his hair, onto the back of his neck. All of his rigidness and discomfort suddenly gone, he pressed his lips to her temple.

"I am here," there was something final and heart warming in this silly exchange, and he chuckled. And then she slightly moved away, and their eyes met.

The kiss was the perfection of equilibrium. They leaned in simultaneously, their breaths mixing an instant before they felt the touch, and then the taste, both of them closing their eyes, she inhaled in pleasure, he exhaled, and then their world tilted, he pressed on, she clenched her fists with handfuls of his strands, passion rising, flooding them, tenderness stepping back for some time, but never leaving them again. He felt the fabric of the robe grasped in his palm, she moaned into his mouth, and the soft tip of her tongue brushed his lips.

He felt her fingers finally cup his face, the digits curled, and she gently scraped his beard. Then her hands slid on his ears, stroked them, her thumbs ran along his cheekbones. His palm at the back of her neck, he seemed to be learning her, hearing her, her body, her breathing, her pulse evenly beating on the side of her throat.

They pressed their foreheads, catching their breath. He felt some giddy, strange tenderness and kissed the tip of her nose. She giggled and wrinkled it. And then she pounced ahead, pressing her mouth to his again, but this time hotly and greedily, taking him completely by surprise.

Passion erupted in him, his large palms groping her body, slender shoulders and tiny waist, grazed her ribs, and he pushed his fingers into her curls quickly escaping a braid. He tried to take control over the kiss, his hand sliding under her ear, his thumb pressed on her jawline, but she did not let him, attacking him with all possible fervour, clawing at him, moaning into his mouth. She was heating up in his hands, and it was as frightening as the dragon's fire. He felt her white even teeth dip into his bottom lip, and he growled, stepping ahead, pressing her into the wall. She moaned and arched into him. And just like seven years ago he felt her leg wrap around his.

His palms jumped onto her shoulders, and he placed some distance between their bodies. The look on her face almost made him lunge at her again. Eyes shining, feverish, copper hair in a halo around her burning face, lips red and swollen, the dazed look in her unfocused eyes and the knowledge that he put her into this state made him quickly consider how much noise would penetrate the flimsy walls of the closet if he took her right now against this wall. And then he clenched his teeth and renew his determination.

"Wren..." She blinked, and some sanity seemed to return into her amber eyes. She shook her head, and even brighter blush coloured her cheeks.

"I am sorry... That was so inappropriate... I do not know..." She pressed her narrow palms to her face. "I have dreamt of you so much, and I just..." She stumbled over her words, and then in a new gesture that made his heart clench she stepped forward and hid her face in his chest. "Forgive me, my lord… I have never in my life behaved so unseemly..."

Ridiculous elation filled his heart. "Do I gather you have been unattached through these seven years, my lady?" She snorted into his coat. And then she peeked at him with a hesitant flirtiness.

"Do I appear that starved, my lord? I have been unattached. I was waiting for you." Her arms gently wrapped around his waist, and then she giggled. "You are so very wide." His brows jumped up. She hid again and mumbled, "I always prattle when I am nervous..."

He embraced her in return and pressed his cheek to the the top of her head. "I welcome your fervour, my lady, but we will wait till the wedding night." She jumped away from him and stared at him with wide open eyes. He chuckled. He might have been wrong but he seemed to have caught a glimpse of disappointment in her eyes.

"I have a trunk packed," she suddenly laughed, and he joined her, not understanding but enjoying her sudden sunny smile. "I have been packing it for seven years, like a dimwit… I certainly have not thought I would need it." And then her face dropped, and she pressed her palm to her forehead. "Maiar, it is happening..." She grew suddenly pale, and he grasped her shoulder worried she would faint. She smiled to him weakly, and then she firmly pressed her palms to his face and peered into his eyes. "Are you playing with me, Thorin Oakenshield?" That was an interesting tone, he noticed with pleasure, assertive and decisive. He momentarily thanked Mahal again. That was the Queen worthy of Erebor. Or perhaps, Erebor was only just worthy of the woman standing in front of him, her face stern and proud.

He smiled into her burning, menacing eyes, and shook his head. "I am offering you my heart and my Kingdom, honourable healer. Will you accept?"

She surveyed his face for a few more instants and then solemnly nodded. "I will come to your inn in the morning with my trunk. Do I understand it correct that we are leaving first thing in the morning?" He nodded and smiled again.

They moved to each other, mouths meeting, arms caressing, and he doubted the soundness of his decision to wait till the wedding night. He felt the need to do it right. For once it was not about the carnal hunger. But her small strong hands, the way her body seemed to respond to the littlest of his movements, the intoxicating taste of her lips, the light floral smell of her skin and hair…

He pushed her away and decisively jerked the door open. "I will see you in the morning in the Prancing Pony, my lady." He leaned in quickly and pressed the last kiss in the corner of her lips.

He rushed out of the infirmary and gulped his lungs full of the crisp air of Bree. And then a nonsensical thought came to go back and enjoy his happiness just for a little more. He shook his head. He was no dimwit youngling in love.

He made the first heavy steps towards the road and chuckled. He realised he had forgotten about the limp. And then the doors behind him burst open, he swirled on the spot, and all he managed to see was a swoosh of her bright orange mop of hair. Her body slammed into him. Her arms thrown around his neck, she pressed her face to his neck, "I am so happy, I am so happy... You came!" He guffawed.

"I did."

"Maiar, you did." She happily looked into his eyes and laughed. She pecked his lips, let him go and ran back into the infirmary.

Thorin Oakenshield stood in the middle of the busy street in Bree, and his heart was beating painfully. He guessed the muscle had never been used to working so much in a course of one day. And then he took control over his emotions and started walking towards the Prancing Pony.


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N: In this chapter, my darlings, we will see a bit more Kili. The angst and pain that RagdollPrincess is putting her prince through is simply delicious! Her OFC, Reese, is a member of the race she invented, Futurians, people from our time stuck in Middle Earth. In her story the following chapter is chapter 34, and in the preceding story we see Reese and Kili fall in love and enter steamy relationships. She leaves him after some time though, frightened and threatened by the fact she would have to adopt Dwarven traditions and customs, were she to agree to marry him. I highly encourage you to read the story, it is going to put you through painful hell of emotions, and you will love RagdollPrincess for it! :) And again, the smut is glorious!**

_Written by RagdollPrincess_

Kili of the line of Durin woke the next day to find Balin dozing in a chair by the door. He had a splitting headache and cringed as he caught his own scent, his stomach lurching ominously as he tasted stale beer in his mouth. He sat up in the bed and put his feet on the floor, clearing his throat as he rested his head in his hands. He nearly vomited as he dislodged the phlegm in his throat. He needed something to rinse his mouth out and looked around to find water.

Seeing a pitcher and glass on a dresser across the room, he rose to reach for it but crashed to the floor loudly as he suddenly felt extremely dizzy and nauseous. Rising to his knees, he heaved and vomited on the floor, his sick splattering over his hands and running along the floorboards.

He heard Balin rise, and a glass of water appeared before him. He accepted it gratefully, drinking it in one gulp, before glancing around to find a rag to clean up his sick. Using a sheet from the bed, he began to mop up the mess.

This was beginning to become a more frequent occurrence, although he'd never in his life been as drunk as he had been last night. He didn't remember very much after he and Balin arrived at the inn. He had a vague recollection of his arguing with Thorin, and then everything was a blur.

He imagined Balin had decided to sleep in his room to make sure Kili didn't die in his sleep. Kili felt a surge of guilt at the discomfort Balin would have been in as a result. They were back on the road today, and Balin had given up his one night to sleep in a comfortable bed.

Kili hadn't intended to get so drunk but his anger and jealously at Thorin's happiness and pending marital bliss to the healer had been too painful. He'd desperately wanted to escape and the ale as usual was his way out.

Bunching the soiled sheet in a ball and tossing it in a corner, Kili rose to his feet, feeling a bit better although still extremely hungover. The buzzing pressure in his head that was always present was still there, but he was able to stumble across the room to the pitcher to splash some water on his face. He smelled disgusting and could hardly stand himself. He desperately needed a bath.

"Come along, laddie, let's get some food into you," Balin said behind him. Kili nodded silently as he followed the older dwarf.

Thorin wasn't present at breakfast, and Balin explained that the evening before Thorin had planned to go out first thing in the morning to purchase two more ponies for the healer and her belongings. Kili nodded, wondering if Thorin would ever begin to act like a monarch and allow others to do these things for him. He thought it unlikely.

Despite his protesting stomach, he was able to eat a little, which seemed to make Balin happy as well. He wondered if it was too early to have ale with his meal. He felt he needed something to fortify himself with before embarking on the journey with the lovers. A month ago a hangover such as this would have made him swear off drinking, even if he didn't last the day before breaking his promise to himself. However, he was more realistic now and had come to accept his need, often beginning to drink before the day had fully begun.

The serving girl raised her eyebrows as he placed his order but didn't argue. Balin regarded him sadly from across the table. "Don't you think you could wait a bit, laddie?"

Kili shook his head. "There is no way that I can make it through this journey without something to dull …."

"The pain," Balin finished for him.

Kili nodded and rested his forehead in his hand, eyes closed.

"It won't always be like this, laddie, but I hate to see you ruin your life in the meantime," Balin added.

Kili shook his head again. "Right now I just need to get through this journey with those two. I don't know if I'll be able to stomach it. For the love of Mahal, I wish I understood why Thorin brought me on this journey."

"I believe The King wanted to keep an eye on you," Balin smiled from across the table.

Kili snorted. "I don't need someone to keep an eye on me. And this journey has just made things worse. I just reminds me how useless I am." Kili gestured with his hands. He wasn't even helpful in providing protection. Since the battle, he'd been too terrified to hold a weapon and hadn't even brought his bow on the journey.

"And they make you think of her, don't they?" Balin asked.

Kili nodded as he stared at the table. Balin knew about the elf, but Kili knew Balin was referring to Reese, who occupied so many of Kili's thoughts. "Which just makes everything else even worse, the sleep, the images, this pressure in my head that I can't seem to get rid of," he groaned as he said the last words, rubbing his temple ineffectually.

Balin nodded sadly again. He appeared to be struggling with something and took a long while before he spoke again. "Have you considered going to Adelaide, asking her to come back to you?"

Kili looked at Balin as though he was crazy. "What, and go through this all again? She won't have changed. She never will, so what purpose would that serve? She'll never agree to live in Erebor and to adopt dwarrow ways," Kili shook his head. "This happens to dwarves all the time where the woman doesn't want the man despite his love for her, and that's that. The man has no choice but to continue on with life."

"Aye, but those dwarves aren't in love with Futurians. She was scared and didn't understand. But she is less stubborn than a dwarf and if she knew you wanted her she might come. She might be too afraid to contact you, might think … for some reason… that it's best if she stays away and that you wouldn't want her."

Kili gave Balin a hard look. "And I don't want her, Master Balin. I don't see how it could ever work. We're too different, from different worlds. It's just too hard. It was a mistake from the beginning, Mahal's plans be praised," Kili rolled his eyes skyward in irritation. "And nothing can be done about it now. I have no desire to see her, even if she still loves me, as much as I might …." He stopped talking, not wishing to speak of how much he still loved the woman. He did wonder if things would be better if he had her, but then he remembered that having her meant struggling, fighting, always trying to convince her to stay and not to run away from him, and he knew he couldn't do that anymore, not the way he was now. Not after so much loss and so much pain.

Balin reached across the table to pat Kili's hand in a fatherly manner, a moment of intimacy Kili had been missing, even if he told himself he hadn't. Thorin had been absent in his preoccupation with this journey, and bringing Kili along only served to make Kili feel as though he was a child, not a man to be treated with respect. But still, the simple act of comfort from Balin was warming to him, even if just for a moment.

"What do you miss about her?" Balin asked quietly.

Kili glanced at Balin, surprised at the question. It wasn't typical of dwarves to encourage such intimate confessions in each other, and even Fili hadn't asked Kili this question. Kili sighed and leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms over his chest and staring blankly across the room, thinking for a moment. "Everything. Even the things I hated about her, I miss." He shook his head at the last words, and Balin chuckled along with him at the thought.

"Aye, so it seems to be the way of things with women," Balin laughed. Kili laughed with him and felt himself smile, unable to resist Balin's laugh, his underused muscles aching at the feeling.

He sat considering the white haired dwarf. Even though Balin was much older than he was, Kili felt as though Balin was treating him as an equal, a friend. He hadn't felt that from anyone in a long while, finding instead people tiptoed around him, protecting him like a child. Reese had been the worst, actually, not sharing parts of herself with him, treating him as though he was fragile and needing to be protected from life, not even talking to him before she left as though he couldn't possibly have anything to say that might be important or helpful. As though he couldn't possibly understand where she was coming from. And he did understand, of course he did. He just couldn't believe she would disappear like that without giving him a say at all.

Kili sighed. "I miss how I felt around her. Even though she was always freaked out, always just a little bit skittish, I felt … safe, like nothing bad could happen." Balin nodded at him gently as he paused. "I actually fear for what the company must think of her because I don't think they saw in her what I did. She cares so deeply for other people. She's always helping, and she's fiercely loyal to the people she loves. Usually," Kili added wryly. "It was so hard for her to decide to come on the quest with us, to leave her people behind. She missed Adam and Julie horribly. Although she never really spoke of it, I could tell."

Kili stopped. He felt slightly sick talking about the things he loved about Reese. He didn't want to miss her, didn't want to think about how he would love to have her back in his life. He wanted to hold onto the hurt and anger because he knew it wasn't an option for him. He was different now, and he knew he wasn't able to handle her anymore. He wasn't able to put up with the crap. At this thought, he felt himself retreat into the safety of his hostility.

"But she is nothing but ikminshulk to me, now."

Balin sat considering Kili for a moment. Kili glanced at him, and the older dwarf looked as though he had something to tell Kili. "What is it?" Kili asked

Balin opened his mouth and closed it again, and then finally spoke. "I liked her," he shrugged, smiling at the dark prince. "She was a good lass, and you seemed to be good for her."

Kili laughed coldly. "Not good enough, obviously."

Balin sighed and pushed Kili's plate towards him. "Eat some more. We have a long journey ahead of us."

Kili obliged, forcing some bread down his throat that he followed with a mouthful of ale. He eyed the dwarf across from him. He realized he knew very little about Balin. Balin spent more time with Fili. Being both elder brothers, they had similar temperaments. Kili and Dwalin had more in common, and Kili realized he couldn't even remember a single time in his life before this moment that he had been alone with Balin. To him he had always been his grandfather's and uncle's counsellor and a warrior, nothing more. Slightly irritable and grumpy when he and Fili got into trouble as dwarflings, not that they didn't deserve it. And Balin had no family besides Dwalin.

"I suppose you're lucky to have avoided all of this muck with love and women, hey?" Kili joked, attempting to lighten the mood.

Balin glanced up at him in amusement. "Actually, I fell in love once."

Kili blinked, immediately regretting his insensitive words. He really could be too impulsive sometimes. "What happened?"

"She loved someone else, married him instead." Balin smiled gently. He didn't seem sad discussing it. "It was more than 100 years ago," he shrugged.

"Who?" Kili asked incredulously. He wondered if he knew the person who had stolen Balin's love.

"The King at the time," Balin answered, his eyes twinkling at Kili as he spoke.

Kili sat in his chair. "Gamil Amad?" he asked, astonished by Balin's confession. His mind whirled. Balin had been in love and rejected, which happened to dwarves all the time of course, but the personal connection made him react more to Balin's confession.

"I didn't know," said Kili. "I never realized the connection." His grandmother would have been quite a bit older than Balin at the time, which hardly mattered. "Does Thorin know?" Kili asked.

Balin shrugged. "Possibly. It hardly matters now," he said as he smiled gently at Kili. "But it gets easier, laddie, you'll see," Then he repeated his words from moments before, "But I really would hate to see you ruin your life in the meantime."

The day was cold and grey as Balin, Kili, and Thorin waited in the courtyard of the inn for the healer, who had just run inside for a moment. Kili had managed to find a bath and smelled much less like the inside of a rotting carcass. When the healer returned, Kili turned away while Thorin helped her onto her pony, but not before he saw Thorin slid his hand down the healer's thigh and be rewarded with a small smirk from her. Kili had been surprised at her garb. She was dressed as a dwarrowdam might for travel in black breeches and a red velvet coat that reached her thigh. Her hair was in a more elaborate style that complimented her unusual features as well as could be expected. She looked quite adorable actually, and Kili couldn't help noticing her tiny rounded bottom as Thorin hoisted her onto the pony before he turned away gritting his teeth, the buzzing in his head growing.

At last they were on the road again, travelling East. They would be travelling for several weeks, planning to spend a few nights in Rivendell, much to Thorin's chagrin. Thorin's relations with elves had improved significantly in the past months, but he still preferred to avoid them as much as possible. Staying at Rivendell was far too close to Adelaide for Kili's comfort, only a day's ride away, and the last thing he wanted to feel the pull towards Reese, or worse to encounter her at Rivendell should she be in attendance on one of her trading missions. He could only presume that she had returned to her previous work upon her return to her people.

The healer had exclaimed in excitement when she'd learnt they would be stopping at Rivendell. "Oh, I've always wanted to go there!" she'd said as they departed Bree. Kili had to turn his head away so that she didn't see the irritated expression on his face. Not that he spent any time looking at her to begin with. He avoided her as much as he possibly could, always riding ahead of their party so that he didn't have to see her.

He had to listen to her though. Balin appeared to be quite taken with her, and they chatted amicably throughout each day. She peppered Balin with questions about Erebor, his ancestors, dwarf customs, the company, the quest. She was very diplomatic about it, but she seemed to have a way of making Balin open up and chatter on incessantly, much to Kili's irritation.

Thorin's behaviour towards the healer was of a more physical nature, and he'd often hear giggles when they went to fetch water from the stream, which they always volunteered for until Balin and Kili stopped offering and just handed them the water skins whenever they were near water. Kili was surprised, however, at how chaste their behaviour was. They were never gone for any significant period of time, and unless Thorin was losing his touch, Kili was sure their behaviour towards each other never went farther than a hurried embrace in the trees.

Despite his avoidance of the healer, Kili quickly learnt his assessment of her had been quite inaccurate. She was clearly an honorable woman who loved his uncle dearly. It appeared she truly had been waiting for him in hopes that he would one day return. He'd had to endure hearing the story again as Balin had asked her about it. She and Thorin had been disgustingly sweet as they'd sat by the fire, legs barely touching, as they told them of how they'd met, how grumpy and intolerable Thorin had been towards her, and how she had always hoped he would return to her. They clearly left out several details and had reshaped the tale into a sweet love story that painted Thorin as a love struck puppy, which Kili knew couldn't be any farther from the truth.

Despite his eagerness to get back to Erebor, he was relieved when they'd finally arrived at Rivendell. He would have three days break at least from the lovers. He intended to spend those three days in his quarters and hopefully wouldn't be required to emerge for meals. He doubted this likelihood though, as it would likely be a source of concern if the younger prince of Erebor didn't join the king and Lord Elrond. But any break would be welcome before they continued on their journey.

ikminshulk = dirt

Amad = mother

Gamil = old


	5. Chapter 5

_Written by kkolmakov_

Wren, the former healer in the city of Bree, and to her own astoundment suddenly the future Queen Under the Mountain, stretched on a wide bed and felt her tired back relax. After days on the pony back, her spine was buzzing, and she thought she could hear something crack in her pelvis. She was lying in the silent dim room, on the pleasantly cool, smooth sheets, and her situation finally fully dawned on her. She gave it a thought and then pinched her arm. She immediately hissed, her skin was sensitive and would bruise even from a gentle poke, and then she lifted her hand and looked at it. One, two, three, four, five. All fingers present, no extra ones. She was not sleeping. She was in Rivendell, she just had the best bath in her life, and she was indeed travelling to the Lonely Mountain. The reason for her travel stubbornly reminded of itself, but she shoved it to the back of her mind for now. She did feel calmer after the bath, the second one in the course of the evening. The first one she took was before dinner at which she was introduced to none other but Lord Elrond, Lord of Rivendell, after which she had to share a meal with him, sitting on the right hand from her future husband Thorin Oakenshield. Wren considered pinching herself again, but it really hurt last time. She turned on her side and tried to will some sleep.

Her mind whirling, she soon understood it was easier to let all of the events of the last weeks rush into her mind than fighting her own railing emotions. She managed to organize her thoughts ten years ago when she lost her lover Aldacar, she was calm and composed seven years ago when Thorin Oakenshield appeared in her life and left as quickly, taking her heart with him, she could do it now. She closed her eyes and exhaled. She imagined a chest of drawers and pulled the first imaginary drawer.

Here lay her feelings for the Dwarven King, locked in it seven years ago, too painful to ever be touched, and suddenly flaring and flooding all her being. She allowed herself think back at the moment when she saw him in the infirmary for the first time. Dirty from the road, paler and wider than she remembered him, features harsher, his blue eyes burning, he was frozen in the middle of her infirmary, and she doubted her eyes. Her heart painfully clenched, and the room swayed. She took a deep breath then, willing herself not to hope for much, he was probably passing the city again, and stopped by, but then the pain and the love burst in her heart and her mind, and for the first time in her life she decided she did not care. She started running, the only thought in her head was to touch him, and she threw herself on his neck. When she was taking the last quick steps, she realized later, his arms opened, and he took a few steps to meet her.

She would laugh about it later, but at the moment he pressed her into him, she heard the sarcastic voice of her best friend in her head, "Are you out of your mind, Wren? Where is Smarty Pants Wren, dull and uptight, the little bossy know-it-all that we all know and love?" And she barked at the imaginary Thea in her head, "Shut up! I have this one chance, and I will not waste it! I have a life of heartbreak and loneliness ahead of me, I am not passing my only chance to be close to the man I love. Even if for one instant."

She chuckled in her larger than necessary bed in Rivendell and suddenly realized there were tears in her eyes. She clenched her jaw and willed them from spilling. He asked her to marry him. She agreed. He was a Dwarf, they did not play with such matters. He kissed her, and she literally felt her toes curl. He solemnly declared he would not bed her till the wedding night. She agreed again. On the other hand, she highly doubted he would last. Again, he was a Dwarf, they were known for their libidinousness. She was looking forward to experiencing it first hand. She thought of the short embraces in the bushes, their lips would meet, and he would lose control and press her into a tree. Then he would shake his head, in a gesture so reminiscent of a stroppy pony that she would giggle, and then he would drag himself from her, to her amusement and his obvious frustration. He would glare at her, and she would laugh. He probably seemed intimidating to others, but she only felt giddy and hesitantly playful with him. He desired her, she felt it in every touch. There were glances that scorched her, there were whispers that would make her skin tingle, and all she wanted was to press herself into him and forget the world existed.

Wren smiled and allowed her one little moment of weakness. She would think of him for one minute, and then this drawer would be closed. His eyes, the scorching palms, the surprisingly fluffy lashes, the lips, the shoulders… She felt suddenly hot in the chilly room and buried her burning face into the pillow. The large muscular build, the force and speed with which he moved, the regal posture, everything about him made her dizzy and enamoured. For seven years she had lived with a constant dull ache in her chest. It would reside in her blood, poisoning it. And now it was gone.

He was gentle, respectful, attentive. She momentarily remembered how she leaned to fill a water skin, and a comb slipped out of her hair. Her braids sprang to freedom, their ends dunking in the spring, and he moved, and to her shock she saw the comb, never having reached the ground, grasped in his hand. Astonished by the speed with which he could move, she stared at him, and he suddenly pecked her lips and grinned. He gently moved her braids behind her shoulders and handed her the comb. Something flashed in his eyes, and she thought back on all those accounts she had read of the meaning that hair had in the Dwarven culture. He slowly released her plaids, the curly tails sliding through his fingers, and there was something endlessly intimate and passionate in his eyes at that moment, and she could not help it. She threw her arms around his neck and pressed her lips to his in an unrestricted kiss, perhaps for the first time in her life losing control thusly. Or the second. She did behave rather unseemly in the closet in the infirmary.

Her minute of mawkishness was over, and she shook her head. She had a lot to think of. She would see him in the morning, he would smile to her, and she would be able to ogle him as much as she liked. She was good at discreetly watching people. For years she managed to stay almost invisible for most people.

She sighed and pulled another imaginary drawer out. She was marrying a King. She was to become a Queen. She was to rule a country, a people, and none other but narrow-minded, bigoted, conservative Dwarves. She rolled on her back again and steepled her fingers on her middle. That would require a lot of work, and she would need to be smart about it. She did not doubt she could do it, become his Queen, become worthy of the honour, but establishing respect and submission from Dwarves would be a labourious task.

There were a few things that gave her hope. Firstly, she knew of how unquestionable Thorin's authority was for the Khazad. She had a chance to talk to some of them in these seven years, even once after the Battle of Five Armies, and she knew the story of the Quest for Erebor, the dragon and the battle with Orcs and Wargs. He had chosen her, she was his One, the thought of it made her feel warm and safe. They would not dispute his choice, they would doubt and probably hate and despise her, but no one would question her right to sit on the throne near him. And she would prove she had every right for it. She had his heart, she needed to gain his respect and admiration. And for that she needed allies.

That brought her to the second thought she found consoling. She thought, and she was very rarely wrong in interpreting the minds of people, she already had one friend in Erebor. Balin, son of Fundin, a white haired Dwarf accompanying her King on this trip, an attentive listener and a wonderful storyteller, amazingly agile for his age, was one third of all Dwarves Wren had at her disposal right now to base her perception of the Khazad. Given she understood that Balin followed Thorin's lead in his attitude towards her, she felt genuine affection in him. They seemed to establish wonderful relationships from the start. He was endlessly respectful, treating her as a Queen already, and she found his company very pleasant. She was also perceptive enough to understand that he was so willing to accept her as he was pleased by the changes in the King that her presence seemed to have brought.

A few nights ago all three of them were sitting around the fire, the King's nephew sitting a few feet away from them as usual, and without noticing it himself, Thorin started humming some melody. She had never heard him sing before, and she held her breath. His voice was low and velvet, pitch perfect, he followed the tune effortlessly, and she caught Balin's eyes. The older Dwarf looked very pleased, and she assumed such relaxed state was not characteristic for the King Under the Mountain. Judging by the cantankerous and bad-tempered disposition he had showed seven years ago, her assumption was right. The King suddenly stopped his humming and looked at the two of them. They probably were a hilarious pair, an older Dwarf with a cordial, fatherly smile on his lips, and an enamoured girl with wide open eyes and slightly dazed face.

"Is something the matter?" They both vigorously shook their head and pretended to be very busy with their dinner. And then she looked at Balin from the corner of her eye, and he nodded to her as if thanking her for the King's mood. She gave him a small smile, hoping he could see in her eyes that in no way she felt responsible for the changes. All three of them went back to pleasant silent companionship. The only thing tarnishing the evening was the dark brooding figure of the King's nephew sitting lost in his thoughts, leaning on a tree on the edge of their camp.

The thought of the third of her companions made her shuffle uncomfortably on her bed. Kili of the line of Durin was an unusual Dwarf. She had seen enough of the Khazad to understand that something was horribly wrong with the King's nephew. He seemed utterly broken, hardly keeping it together, unkempt, thinned. She was a healer and knew the signs of physical exhaustion when she saw them. The question she kept on asking herself was what could have happened to change him thusly. Because even through the darkness and constant agitation she saw now, she could see the glimpses of what he must have been before. A gorgeous young Dwarf, full of life, with the dark beautiful eyes that were made to sparkle with mirth and mischief, a mouth with lines sensual and strong, bottom lip full, a mouth that was destined to laugh and sing, strong jawline... Something had knocked down his defenses, the natural resilience of a Dwarf, his nerves in frenzy.

She thought she saw his hands shake, and she was certain it had nothing to do with his dependency on alcohol, though that was surprising as well. Dwarves were drinkers, but they were too stubborn and independent to allow anything to control them, including ale. To develop such habit, and he was obviously suffering from withdrawal, he would have to rely on ale to sustain him on everyday basis. He was pale, dark purple circles under his eyes, and in the time they spent travelling together he hardly slept. She had trouble sleeping too, she was always cold due to her thinness, and it had been almost ten years since she had to spend a night on the hard ground under an open sky. At night she could see him sitting, his hands constantly moving, fidgeting with a twig or a dagger, a dark disturbing energy buzzing in him. Kili was frightening her.

Every little thing about him made her distressed. His beard had obviously been let to grow out. She assumed it was short since he was an archer, but there was no bow on him at the time. The hands though bore the distinct markings left by arrows and a bowstring. Just like his uncle he had wonderful dark strands but they were dirty and were obviously not taken care of. For a Dwarf such negligence was astonishing. His clothes did not fit anymore, he must have lost a lot of weight.

She could see a great deal of resemblance between the two dark haired Dwarves, and she wondered if Kili was a remarkable swordsman just as his uncle, he obviously had the strength and the agility. But at the moment he looked like those mechanical toys when a screw went loose in them and their legs and arms would lose their coordination. Sometimes when he would get up, he would sway. Lack of sleep obviously did not help his balance. He had nightmares, there was no ale to knock him out at the end of the day.

She wondered for how long it had been going on. She would assume among other thing he was suffering from what healers called "soldier's heart." Those who had seen battle, especially if it was their first one, came back from it changed, broken, haunted. She wondered if he had lost someone dear in the Battle of Five Armies. She knew his brother lived and wondered if the other prince of Eredor was the same ghost of a person as she saw in front of her.

But she knew there was something else. Dwarves were a hardy race, they went through their lives with strong beliefs and stubborn attitude. She would think of Thorin, his arrogance, his certainty that he was always right, his obvious ability to bounce back from hardships. She knew of the Battle of Azanulbizar, when he had lost his brother, grandfather and any hope to reclaim the Kingdom of Moria. He fought, he lived, he became the King his people needed at that time. Something did not allow Kili to overcome the mental wounds of his battles.

Among other things, she thought sadly, it was possibly his uncharacteristic for a Dwarf astuteness and self-awareness. Even in the King, as enamoured as she was with him, she could see the Dwarven hardheadedness and self-assurance. She foresaw a lot of negotiating and diplomatic delicacy on her part in the future. Kili had sharp, canny eyes. He knew when he was wrong and knew what was happening to him. And she knew on her own experience, there was nothing more painful in life than understanding the evils of the world and the flaws in oneself, to perceive what nightmare one's life had turned into, and not being able to do anything about it. Kili of the line of Durin knew he was degrading and could do nothing about it.

At the beginning of their travel she assumed he hated her because she was no Dwarf, a woman undeserving to be his uncle's wife, but she soon understood it was not her he hated. He could not stand what she signified. Happiness, requited love, and most of all future. She was Thorin's future, and he was hers.

Rather quickly Wren understood that Kili's heart bore the wounds of rejection. What kind of person would turn their back to a Dwarf like him? There was strength, and pride, and strong will in him. Someone broke him, all hope for fullfilled future lost for him. And Wren was certain it was done cruelly and unjustly, not allowing him to save his dignity and even more so making him doubt his worth. If he was indeed like his uncle, and Wren saw a keen resemblance in their temperaments, that was the worst of blows for him. To destroy a Dwarf one needs to destroy their pride.

And then she thought of him being a Dwarf and possibly having lost his love, and she would feel even more terrified. For them to meet their One and not being with them was a torture. Through her seven years without the King she often wondered why it hurt so much. Why was it that everyday she lived as if in a dark cloud, every cell in her body in torment, she would go through each day and no matter what she did she remembered the excruciating void inside her. She thought she was being mawkish, childish, she would scold herself, and then dreams would come. She lived, she served, she danced, she laughed, but she carried him in her heart every moment of every hour. She could not imagine what pain such longing would cause to a Dwarf. They were taught from their childhood that there was one and only one to reside in their heart and their mind. Given, it did not spread on carnal matters, but Dwarves loved once. Had Kili already met his One and lost her or him?

Wren was a healer and no matter what her life were to be now, she could not neglect her duty to treat and to help. She so often felt like just jumping on her feet and rushing to him. Yelling at him, shaking him, embracing him, crying for him and with him... Her hands would shake from the piercing pity and desire to help. More and more darkness was gathering in him, and soon it would spill and ruin his life. The hour when he could not control himself anymore would come, and he would rage and bring ruin to himself. She felt her heart clench but she willed herself to sit on her spot by the fire and avoid his burning eyes. There was nothing to be done. He would reject her attempts to interfere, she would only make him retreat in himself more, and were he to lash on her, she would cause a spite between him and his uncle. No one could help him but himself, and unfortunately he could not either.

Wren lay in her bed in Rivendell and hoped that Erebor was inhabited by Balins and not Kilis, and she knew that it probably was. The King's nephew with his tormented mind and dark mood was no typical Dwarf. The rest of them, resilient, hard working, conventional and endlessly practical, had certainly moved on from the war and were rebuilding their life for the glory of Erebor and their King. She just needed to show them she could be their Queen and support their rise to prosperity and peace.

Wren pulled her knees to her chest and shivered. She seemed to always be cold, and the last few nights she had had such a lovely sleep. She was embarrassed to think of it, but the last few mornings she woke up in the arms of the King Under the Mountain. One night he was woken up possibly by the loud chattering of her teeth. He looked at her for a few moments, and she tried to smile to him, but her nose was probably blue and the smile looked more like a grimace. He silently got up and lay near her. She could feel the heat coming from his body even though he did not touch her, through the clothes and his brigandine, and she threw all proprietary away and pressed into him. He wrapped his arms around her, and she buried her nose in his neck. He chuckled, probably from the coldness of its tip, and she felt her body relax and sleep taking her over. In the morning she woke up, him wrapped around her, and she was surprised by how familiar and comfortable his bone crushing embrace felt. And then she blushed, suddenly imagining how inappropriate they looked. But Kili was nowhere to be seen, and Balin was sitting by the fire as if nothing out of the ordinary was happening in the camp, and she allowed herself a small indulgence. She nuzzled his neck, coarse hair on his throat scratching her skin, and she felt a low rumble in his chest, under the palm she apparently put over his heart at night. She was too embarrassed to look at him and scampered busying herself with the usual morning errands. The day went on as all the days before it, and in the evening he just took his place near her. She curled into him and sighed happily.

She shuddered and wistfully thought that she would happily exchange the comfortable, luscious bed in the Elven palace for another night on the hard ground with pinecones trying to drill through her spine but with the King's warmth and smell of his skin enveloping her. There was a solution to her problem, but it took her another half an hour of struggling with herself to realize that as improper and indecorous as she knew her actions would be, she was going to do it. She exhaled and climbed out of the bed. The King's room was down the passage, the maid showing her to her room told her, and Wren stepped into the corridor. The floor was cold, and she regretted not putting on her shoes. In the darkness and silence of the passages of Riverdell she quickly slid by the row of the doors and not giving herself a moment to chicken out and turn back, she carefully pushed the door to the bedchambers of Thorin Oakenshield.


	6. Chapter 6

**A/N: And here is the long-awaited update :)**

**_Written by RagdollPrincess_  
**

Thorin, son of Thrain, King Under the Mountain, sat soaking his aching muscles in a steaming bath alone in his room in Rivendell, his long hair unbraided and floating in the water around him. There were lilac petals in the water, and he wondered where the elves found lilac petals in winter. The scent reminded him of Wren, who always seemed to smell like the sweet purple flower. Maybe she had pressed them into her clothes or kept dried flowers from summer.

They had arrived late that afternoon on their journey back to Erebor from Bree. It was the first time he'd found himself truly alone in weeks, and he disliked it greatly, which surprised him even more greatly. He found he missed Wren, the Healer from Bree, and his future wife. He'd thought he would enjoy having a moment to himself, but as soon as the door had shut behind him to his room, loneliness had set in. He wasn't accustomed to the feeling.

Regardless, he was enjoying soaking in the hot water. He was used to bathing once a week, and it had been several weeks since he'd been able to. The streams they passed on their road back to Erebor were frozen in mid winter, and so bathing opportunities had been few.

His thoughts strayed to when he last saw Wren, at dinner. She had been deeply engrossed in conversation with Elrond. It had been quickly established that while Elrond and Thorin had nothing to talk about, Wren and Elrond had a great deal to discuss. They discussed at length Elven healing methods, a topic of great interest to them both. They'd become engrossed to the point where they'd lost track of time over the dinner, and Elrond hadn't even acknowledged Thorin's presence during the meal.

Thorin had been horribly jealous the entire dinner, which was also uncharacteristic of him. He'd never been in a relationship where he would have cause to be jealous. His attachments had always been open ended.

He didn't know how to manage feeling jealous. He dealt with it by trying to calmly watch his future wife as she spoke with the Elven lord, while enjoying the excellent cheese the elves had served. He was tiring of observing without touching her, but there was nothing to be done about it. He noticed she had a voracious appetite. She ate small bites like a bird, but he'd been delighted by how much she'd eaten in her delicate and precise way. He'd smiled at the thought and was reminded of another meal on the road.

They'd been camping, and she'd been sitting with Balin and Thorin by the fire. Kili had been sitting off to the side, sulking as usual, which Thorin had been finding irritating and was glad he did not have to face directly. They'd been eating fish, and she'd suddenly pushed a water skin into his hand, her fingers stroking his wrist slightly before she pulled away. She clearly expected him to drink the water.

He'd looked at her in surprise, and she'd also seemed shocked by her own actions, clearly realizing she'd just treated a grown dwarf, King Under the Mountain no less, as a child. She'd blushed a deep red, something he was noticing she did quite a bit and which he enjoyed quite thoroughly, often doing things on purpose just to make her blush. She'd rushed to explain herself then. "Fish have dark blood," she'd declared hastily, "so you need more water," her face still flaming. He'd chuckled and had lifted the skin to his mouth, emptying it completely, dramatically shaking it in the air afterwards to show her it was empty, that he'd been a good boy and had done what he was told. He'd heard Balin's quiet laughter at the scene as Wren had dropped her head back to her own meal. Thorin had smiled at his old friend who grinned back at him, both equally enthralled by her.

He laughed again at the memory as he settled deeper into the water. He rather enjoyed this directive maternal way of being she had, the way she had of patting his shoulder or stroking his arm lovingly. He'd not been cared for in such a way except when he was quite young, having to grow up rather quickly after Smaug's attack. He didn't think he would like it, but somehow when Wren was taking charge of him he had no desire except to comply, if for no other reason than that it brought her such pleasure.

She truly delighted him. He loved her deeply, but he also genuinely liked her. She made him laugh and he was never safe from surprise when she was around, always making him take pause with an unusual perspective on things or her unusual treatment. She seemed much older than her years, although he was painfully aware that he was far more advanced in age than she was. He was starting to feel old, had aches that didn't go away quickly. He wondered if she felt as though she was marrying an old dwarf.

He realized that he'd only had two months to get to know Wren, and at that they were hardly courting. He had been her patient at the time, and she'd maintained a detached distance from him for most of the time he was requiring her care. His nephews had thought he was insane when he'd told them the story of their meeting and that he intended to seek out a healer he hardly knew seven years ago. Thorin then realized that the same could be said of her. When he'd been in search of her, he'd only hoped he would find her, unattached. However, he hadn't considered that she had been waiting for him after only caring for him for two months as her patient. He laughed again. They made quite the absurd pair indeed, both having faith that the other would return into their lives after such a brief encounter.

He noticed that she looked at him differently now. She'd always seemed cool and detached before, and he now realized she had been guarding her feelings. But now he caught beautiful loving expressions on her face, and her eyes truly shone with affection when she looked at him. He often couldn't help but wink at her at times like this, delighting particularly in how she would blush when he did.

His mind wandered as the image of Wren's blush lingered in his memory, and he recalled that Kili had not been at the meal that night. Kili had been shown to his chamber upon arrival and had not been seen by Thorin since. Thorin had to admit he was glad Kili had not made an appearance. He was beginning to look sickly and was causing alarm. Thorin wasn't sure if Kili would have been able to maintain any sort of composure that evening as he seemed hardly able to conduct himself appropriately at all these days.

Kili was like a son to him and might be the closest thing to a son he'd ever have. He wasn't sure that he and Wren would be able to have children. He'd never heard of a human and dwarf conceiving a child. He knew Wren likely had similar concerns, considering her experience as a midwife. It made him sad that he might not ever be able to give Wren children of her own.

But Kili really was like a son to him. Since Kili's father had died when Dis was still carrying Kili, Thorin had been the only father figure Kili had ever really known. Kili had looked to Fili this way as well, but a brother wasn't the same.

Being in the bath thinking of raising Kili reminded him of a time when he was bathing Fili and Kili as young children. They usually bathed together as keeping the two in the same place under supervision was the easiest way to prevent disaster. They loved their baths, and usually these times were filled with laughter and a large wet mess.

Kili had tended to play in the water more than Fili did. Fili understood he had a job to do when he was in the bath, which was to get clean, while Kili wanted to splash and play with toys Bofur had made them. Fili had been quite a serious child, and Thorin had always been secretly grateful Fili had his brother to lighten him up. Fili started to have more fun as he got older, but as a child he'd been very reserved, bordering on severe, although always gentle with his younger brother.

During this particular instance, Fili had been sitting in the water, as he always did, washing or playing calmly with his boat. This one time that came to mind, Kili had for whatever reason simply unable to tolerate being in the water. Thorin had tried everything to coax Kili into the water and was at his wit's end, resolving instead to bath the thrashing child as quickly as possible in whatever water still remained in the tub. It had been over a week since Kili's last bath, and he was completely filthy so there was no way they could skip the bath that evening.

Kili had been screaming and hollering, and Thorin had been sure that they could hear his wails all the way to Bree. This was something Kili had never grown out of, he'd always been loud, whereas Fili always maintained a quieter demeanor, patient, and soft spoken, although unlike his younger brother Fili had an intensity to him that needed to be checked at times.

During this bath, Fili had suddenly picked up the bath brush and smacked Kili's bottom with it. Kili, who worshipped his older brother, had been so surprised he'd stopped crying immediately. Thorin had been stunned and stared at Fili in shock. It was completely uncharacteristic of Fili to be violent. Even though he was excelling in his weapons training, which he'd begun as soon as he'd been able to lift a wooden sword, he approached it respectfully, seeing violence as a means to an end that should only be chosen if no other option existed

"Fili! Why would you do such thing?" Thorin had cried, meanwhile not missing an opportunity to quickly bathe the still stunned Kili, who was now sucking his thumb in silent shock.

"You told me when I am king to only use force when all else failed. You'd tried everything already. This was the next logical step, uncle." Fili had surveyed his brother curiously. "It appears to have worked."

Thorin's beard twitched at the memory. He was tortured seeing Kili go through what he was. He only ever did things to help Kili, to ensure his happiness, however misguided his efforts might be. No one knew it but he was worried sick about Kili. He knew he appeared angry, and he often was angry and annoyed with Kili, but at times he was aware that his anger and annoyance was a result of his fear that he was losing his dear beloved nephew, the boy he'd raised since infancy and had done everything possible to protect from harm.

Kili only ever wanted to be loved. Thorin had a hard time being careful not criticizing him, but hurting him was like kicking a puppy. Kili only wanted to please. Criticism seemed to roll of Fili's back, but Kili seemed to crumble under even the slightest weight. It was for this reason that Thorin had not wanted Kili to come on the quest. Kili had been heartbroken when Thorin had told him he would not be coming. Fili was going, and Kili assumed he would be too.

Dis had been pleased with Thorin's decision. She'd understood why Fili had to go, but she saw no reason for Kili to not stay home and stay safe. Not that Kili wasn't able to take care of himself. In fact, in battle he was deadly, beyond capable. He'd demonstrated his skill repeatedly in training, as an escort for merchants, and in small skirmishes they'd encountered.

His skill with a bow was unequalled, and he nearly rivalled his brother with a sword. His insecurity drove him to excessive perfectionism, always afraid he wouldn't be good enough. Few knew this about him as he outwardly came across as light, carefree, and even irresponsible. Thorin suspected many saw him as the reckless spoilt younger heir of Durin who'd been allowed to do whatever he liked, always getting into trouble, and getting the older heir into trouble with him. In ways he indeed had been over indulged and over protected. Dis and Thorin held Fili to such high standards that they almost made up for it with Kili.

Maybe that's why Kili had such a thirst to prove himself. Thorin remembered one argument with his youngest sisterson many years ago when Kili had angrily said that all Thorin and Dis saw was Fili, Thorin's perfect heir, and that Kili was just a disappointment, not good enough, so he had to be treated like a baby. Thorin had been a stunned and couldn't believe that Kili thought this. Thorin had tried to explain that he and Dis thought no such thing and only wanted to protect Kili. They couldn't with one child so why not with the other. Kili had stormed from the room, shouting, "I'm just as good as he is!"

Regardless, when the time for the quest came, Fili would hear none of Kili's staying behind. Where he went, his brother went, without argument. Thorin had been taken aback by his eldest nephew's sudden defiance of him. He saw the determination in him of the king he would one day become, standing strong for what he saw as right. His normally mild mannered nephew had been furious even at the suggestion that Kili stay back. If only he could for Kili. If only Kili had someone to show him how worthwhile he was.

It was worse that Kili knew exactly what was happening to him. Everytime Thorin looked in Kili's eyes he felt as though he was looking at a drowning man who had realized he was beyond saving, a chilling look of terror and sadness in his eyes. If only Reese hadn't left. Thorin was sure she would have been able to keep Kili safe, kept him afloat.

Reese Jacobson was even more complicated than Thorin had realized. Thinking of female dwarves, his sister was complicated. She was stubborn and angered quickly. But dwarves weren't usually complicated the way Reese was. He'd seriously misjudged how hidden she kept parts of herself. Reese had depths she'd protected everyone from seeing until she was pushed.

He had truly through that Reese and Kili would be bonded for life. They fit together perfectly. Watching them together was like watching a perfectly choreographed dance. They moved as though they were always connected, always aware of what the other was doing. It was beautiful. There was no other word to describe it.

He had been furious with her for her impulsivity and for just leaving without a word. It was a childish way to deal with things. She was a mother herself and there was no excuse to act that way. He'd been so angry with Reese he probably hadn't even seen to Kili as he should.

He had to admit to himself that he also missed Reese. He considered her a friend, and he had few of those. He'd been delighted about the possibility of her marrying Kili. And it was likely for this reason that he could see her point of view, understood how panicked she must have been. He'd actually been irritated with himself for not anticipated her move, but he'd been preoccupied with the quest and had assumed that she would stay her course, as a dwarven woman might have done. She'd been right when she'd told him their lack of commitment was the reason they worked together, and he should have known she'd take flight.

She'd been different when he'd seen her in Bree. There was a heaviness to her, a sadness, as though she was carrying a burden. Her gaze had been distant, guarded. She'd never looked at him that way before. And there was something else too. A cautiousness, defensiveness. He'd surprised himself when he overreacted when he'd grabbed her collar. He would never raise a hand to a woman, but his relationship with Reese was different. She was like family to him now, and in ways he treated her the way he would his nephews. But he'd been even more surprised when she'd cowered protectively over herself, clearly afraid of him, moving to a safe place in the room far away from him. The Reese he knew would have reacted angrily. She might not have outright fought him, but she would have at least struggled. Unable to determine the cause of this behaviour, or if he was just imagining things, he dismissed the thought disinterestedly.

He considered her words when he saw her and knew they held the weight of truth. He had put Kili in harms way. She had been foolish and childish, but she hadn't done anything that would warrant the type of reaction Kili was having. Thorin was supposed to protect him, and he hadn't realized keeping Kili safe meant emotionally in battle, not physically. Few dwarves reacted to battle the way Kili had, having nightmares and turning to excessive drink. But Thorin knew Kili wasn't typical. He'd been unprepared.

He wasn't sure he had made the right decision keeping them apart. Was he right that she would be harmful to Kili? Thorin had been so angry, so protective of Kili, and so riddled with his own guilt of Kili's state that he hadn't thought his decision through. But what was he to do now? If he told Kili now, Kili would be furious with him. But was it possible that even now Reese could bring Kili back from where no other could follow.

She seemed to want to be with Kili, though. She said she loved him. Said that it would be good for Kili to be with someone who loved him. Was she right? He doubted it. However, one thing he knew about Reese Jacobson was that she was no fool. She may be blinded by her own past and insecurities, but she wasn't stupid. But he'd made the mistake of interfering once before by forcing those two together, and he wasn't going to make the mistake again. He would do his best to undo what he'd done before by keeping them far apart from each other.

It was ironic to him, in a way, that he was trying so hard to keep them separate considering it was because of them that he'd begun to consider searching for Wren. Seeing Kili and Reese together, even deciding that they should be together, had made him wonder why he was being so rigid with himself if he did not have the same expectations of Kili. The answer of course was obvious that he had to hold himself to the highest standard as the future King Under the Mountain, which he hoped was a burden Kili would never have to bear . But seeing how well they fit together, how they made each other better, stronger, had made him second guess his decision to question Mahal in making Wren his One.

His thoughts remained on his future wife. His wonderful tantalizing future queen. He groaned as just the thought of her made his cock harden. He felt his skin stretch slightly as his cock became fully erect, standing above the water.

He realized for the first time in weeks he was alone and could relieve himself of some of the agony he'd been in since leaving Bree. His erections were starting to become painful, and he had to go to great lengths to hide them. He'd caught Balin smirking at him knowingly a couple of times.

It was important to him that Wren remain untouched until their wedding night. He had never cared about such things before, but everything was different with Wren. He'd never even thought himself to be the marrying kind, but the battle and nearly dying had changed that. He'd realized how lonely his life was, how isolated he was, and how being so closed off from others weakened him.

His erection was quickly becoming painful, worsened by the thought of his wedding night, as he brought his hand to himself for the first time in weeks, his bent knees falling open to give him access to himself. He knew he would be quick, grateful finally for the release. He was efficient as he palmed himself, not even bothering to touch his sac, and only needed three pulls before he was catching his seed with the towel he'd draped over the bathtub side. He barely made a noise, only whimpering slightly as he came. He hardly felt any relief as he tossed the towel aside and laid back in the tub, but some relief was better than nothing.

His future wife was the most enticing woman he'd ever seen in his life. She wasn't traditionally beautiful, but to him she was endlessly appealing. He never found her unattractive. The outfit she'd chosen to travel in was only worsening his state. A vision of her legs clad in her black boots and trousers, her thin but shapely thighs and her round pert bottom. The coat she wore was supposed to cover her bottom, but it clung to her in an enticing way. Often he found himself riding behind her on his pony, his eyes glued to her bottom as she chatted cheerfully with Balin.

He groaned as he thought of Wren's bottom. It was the perfect size to fit in his hand. The things he'd imagined doing to that bottom of hers. He'd begin by cupping it while she rode him. Then he'd explore her with his tongue. He particularly wanted to run his tongue along the little fold of skin where her thighs and bottom met. And then he'd put his mouth on her, from behind, tonguing her small nub, drinking in her juices, circling puckered hole. He fully intended to ravish her glorious backside when the time came for them to lie together.

Thorin shifted at the thought of his hands on her bottom, cupping and spreading it as she rode him, his fingers pressing into the folds as they stretched around his cock while it slid into her. He wanted to watch as he stretched her, as she widened to take in his girth.

He laughed aloud and stared astonished as his cock rose from the water again, stiff and already leaking precum as though he had not had a release only moments before. He brought his hand to himself. He stroked his balls lazily, neglecting his erection for now, intended to draw this climax out more enjoyably, as he allowed his mind to wander over Wren's delectable body, lingering on his favourite parts. Her collarbones. Her adorable tiny feet that he'd seen on occasion when she'd removed her boots to warm them by the fire. Her delightful breasts.

Her breasts were so small and perfect. His mouth actually watered as he imagined taking them into his mouth. He wondered if they were sensitive, if she would enjoy his running his tongue around small peaks.

He usually enjoyed larger breasts, but Thorin imagined Wren's small breasts could fit perfectly in his hand as he ran his thumb over the tips gently, and he craved to touch them. He had lost several nights of sleep wondering if her peaks were as red as her lips.

His movements quickened as he tugged at his engorged cock, imagining himself straddling her chest, his slick cock sliding between her small perfect breasts before he came, dusting her throat with his seed like pearls strung across her neck and chest.

He tried to imagine that his hand was hers, her cool strong hand stroking him gently. He couldn't convince himself, though, leaving him disappointed. His mind shifted instead to another image, that of her lying below him as he thrust into her, her wild orange hair splayed on the bed like a pillow, a red blush creeping down her neck and breasts as they swayed with each snap of his hips, as he lost himself in her burning gaze.

He was surprised that he found this image so powerful. He normally preferred taking a woman from behind, finding it endlessly arousing, but he wanted to watch Wren's face as she fell apart before him, wanted her to see his love for her. His desire for her was so great that if she only allowed him to bed her twice a day, so much less than what he truly wished for, he'd be satisfied. He knew those of the Race of Men didn't have the insatiable hunger of dwarves and had prepared himself, in fact wasn't even concerned, for having to curb his desires to such infrequent beddings.

His tastes and experiences were varied, but he found he had no desire to subject Wren to anything she might not expect. It wasn't that she was cold. He expected her appetite would be quite healthy for a woman of Men. He only felt no need to explore unique tastes.

He'd be more than satisfied simply happy being able to lie next to her each night, wake next to her each morning, rule his kingdom with her. She would be his partner in all things, and he could ask for no greater pleasure in life. It was with this thought that he finally climaxed the second time, unexpectedly, as he quickly grappled for the discarded towel. He collapsed back into the tepid water, still unsatisfied but feeling he could manage. For now.

Thorin rose from the bath. The room filled with the sudden thunderous sound of the water streaming from his body. Stepping from the tub, he decided it was too late to ask for it to be removed and would leave the water until morning. Sitting on the edge of the bed, he saw to his hair, drying it with a towel, carefully combing it, and weaving the braids on either side of his face. He would finish rebraiding the rest in the morning. He hadn't been able to engage in this ritual on the road, one he looked forward to sharing with Wren when they were married. For the first time in weeks he felt and smelled clean. Feeling sleep edging along the corners of his vision, he slid between the sheets of his bed, his hand snaking under his pillow to grip a dagger as he succumbed to the night.


End file.
